


Must It Always End In Handcuffs?

by TheseusInTheMaze



Series: Kinkbruary 2021 [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Bondage, Cunnilingus, F/F, Face Sitting, Handcuffs, Kinkbruary (Doctor Who), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:48:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29149236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: “Not that I’m complaining,” Clara said, “but I don’t think this is what the Doctor meant about us getting to know each other a little better.”Clara and River do some bonding. In more than one respect.
Relationships: Clara Oswin Oswald/River Song
Series: Kinkbruary 2021 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2139585
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	Must It Always End In Handcuffs?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Everyone! Welcome to Kinkbruary! I'm going to try to do a fic a day, kinda like noncontober! Today's Kinkbruary prompt is bondage!

“Not that I’m complaining,” Clara said into River’s cleavage, as the older woman leaned over her, carefully fastening the handcuffs to the headboard of the bed, “but I don’t think this is what the Doctor meant about us getting to know each other a little better.” 

River sat back, resting her weight on Clara’s thighs as she looked over her handiwork, and then she grinned. Her nose wrinkled up, and her eyes squinted - she looked cheeky and pleased with herself, and Clara had never wanted to kiss another person so much in her life.

… Okay, no, that was a blatant lie, she had wanted to kiss many people over the course of her life, but in this _very_ moment she hadn’t ever wanted to kiss anyone quite so much.

“The Doctor told me all about you,” River said, and she was smiling, “and really, I’ve always found that handcuffs make it easier to get to know someone.” She shifted in place, and her knees were digging into Clara’s thighs. Her blouse was low cut enough that Clara could see the tops of River’s breasts, and Clara wanted to take them into her hands, pinch River’s nipples, suck on them. Maybe see if she could reduce confident, sexy River to a gasping, moaning wreck.

“All good, I hope,” Clara said, She licked her lips, and she caught River’s eyes tracking the motion.

Well. Always nice to be appreciated. Some anxious little part of Clara was faintly worried that River didn’t _actually_ want her, or to do anything with her. They’d barely even kissed, apart from a brief press of lips on lips, before River had suggested a bedroom and held the handcuffs up invitingly. 

And. 

Well. 

“Oh, plenty good,” Rive said. She scooted back, until she was sitting on Clara’s calves, and her eyes swept across Clara’s form, from the spot where her breasts were forced forward by her arms over her head, to the bit of thigh bared as the hem of her skirt rode up. “Look at you.” She clicked her tongue, and her smile seemed to be getting redder. A flush was creeping up her cheeks, and her eyes were very dark. 

Clara squirmed. Flat on her back like this, her arms over her head, River _towered_ over her, and there was something intimidating about it. Admittedly, River was intimidating at the best of times, but… this was _especially_ something. 

_It seems my thing for older women is alive and well_ , Clara though, as River’s hands rested on her ribs through the thin fabric of her red dress. Her breasts were heaving like something out of a romance novel, and she was tingling from her scalp to her toes. Her mouth as very dry, and her tongue darted out to lick her lips. 

“You use that mouth quite a lot, don’t you?” River leaned over, and her breasts pressed into Clara’s stomach. “I’ve seen you two sniping each other. It’s good to know that the Doctor’s pigtails are still getting pulled when I’m otherwise engaged.”

“... has the Doctor really had pigtails?” Clara asked, because she was going to ask - nay, _demand_ \- photographic proof. 

River just smirked, and her thumb rested on Clara’s lower lip, slid into Clara’s mouth to press down on her tongue. 

“Y’didn’t answer my question,” Clara said, around the thumb in her mouth.

“I didn’t,” River agreed, and she was still smirking. “You look so very pretty like this.” Now she was shifting, pressing her thighs together. “I could just eat you up.” She pulled her thumb out, pressing the wet digit down on Clara’s chin. 

“I could eat _you_ up,” Clara countered, and she wriggled. It made her dress ride up her hips, and really, she should have worn nicer knickers. _Then again, if I’d known I’d be ravished by a hot milf, I probably would have spent a little extra time shaving my legs._ A pause. _Is milf a term that I’m actually using now? Maybe I’m watching too much porn._

River snorted, and she tapped Clara on the nose. “Cheeky,” she said, but she was still grinning. “If you _are_ offering, though…” She raised an eyebrow suggestively.

Then again, was it possible for River to do anything without being suggestive?

River was getting off of Clara’s legs, standing off to the side of the bed. There was the rustle of cloth, and then River was back on the bed, swinging her leg over Clara’s torso and knee walking up it. Her cunt was wet and slick, dragging across Clara’s waist, sliming up the buttons of Clara’s dress. She was still wearing her blouse, and the handcuffs rattled in the metal headboard as Clara’s hands jerked forward. 

“Stay still, sweetie,” River said, her tone light, and she held on to the top of the headboard, inching closer. Her pubic hair was brushing against Clara’s chin, more stickiness, and Clara let her mouth fall open. 

It had been a while since Clara’s face had been sat on, but it was a bit like riding a bicycle, or swimming the breaststroke. She licked up into River’s soft, wet cunt, and she let her eyes flutter shut as her senses were engulfed by River’s scent, River’s taste. _I could drown in it_ , she thought, and then she snickered into River’s labia, because the Doctor would make a joke about drowning in a river, probably. 

River moaned, and then she gasped, as Clara’s tongue found her clit and lapped at it deftly. She was rocking her hips gently, little half-bucks that jostled Clara just enough to make her jiggle. Her thighs were slippery with slick and sweat, and Clara pulled back to take a breath, and pressed clumsy, wet kisses along them. She would have left a hickey, if she was in a different position, but that felt like it would require too much neck dexterity. 

The cuffs were digging into her wrists, and her arms were starting to burn, but it was a good burn. She was going to have bruises, if she kept this up, and the idea made her whole body go tight and hot. She pressed her own thighs together, squirming a little more, and she tilted her head back, opening her mouth wider. She was sucking on River’s labia now, and she could hear River’s loud, desperate moans. She was quivering against Clara’s tongue, and her fingers were digging into Clara’s scalp, which was a little bit painful, but the pain of it added to all of this, made Clara’s own clit pulse that much harder. 

River tasted salty and clean, a deep, musky flavor that seemed to settle in Clara’s sinuses and the back of her throat. She found River’s clit and wrapped her lips around it and sucked, flickering her tongue along the tip, and she was rewarded with a gush of wetness, dripping down her neck to her chin, to soak into the collar of her dress, smearing across her collarbones. Her jaw was starting to ache, and she was getting light headed as she licked and licked, and her whole world was the pulsing in her clit, in her ears, her nipples, in her shoulders. She gasped against River’s cunt when River’s fingers tangled in her hair and _pulled_ , and then River was keeping her head in place as she rode out a wet climax against Clara’s lips and tongue. She could feel River’s interior muscles twitching through the orgasm, and then River was slumping back, panting heavily.

“You are good with that mouth of yours,” she said, and she was resting her weight on Clara’s sternum, looking down at her. She was grinning, her face flushed. 

“I did tell you,” Clara said, only wheezing a little bit. 

River snorted, and she scooted back down Clara’s body. “Legs open,” she said, and Clara did so, obedient for once in her life. “Good girl,” River added, and Clara really shouldn’t have gotten that much _wetter_ at that, and yet. 

Clara lifted her hips, and she let River pull her knickers down her legs. She spread her legs a little wider, and she shivered, as River’s hair tickled the insides of her thighs. Her toes were curling up, bunching up the fabric of the duvet, and she _really_ wished she’d stop whimpering. 

River’s tongue was slippery against Clara’s labia, and her mouth seemed to be going everywhere at once. If Clara’s hands had been free, she would have sunk them into River’s hair, would have held the other woman’s head in place as she ground her hips forward and rode her way towards an orgasm. 

But they weren’t. The cuffs rattled and bit into her wrists, and Missy’s teeth nibbled, her tongue dabbed and tugged and tasted. It made Clara’s eyes roll back in her head, and she couldn’t really keep track of anything. At one point, her knees were over River’s shoulders, and her heels were digging into River’s sides. She was humping up into River’s mouth, so wet that it was dripping down the crack of her arse, soaking into the skirt of her dress, the duvet under her. She gasped up at the ceiling, and River was making some kind of amused, delighted noise which made her mouth _vibrate_ , and Clara would have voiced some protestation, but she couldn’t entirely remember how to form a word, let alone how to _talk_.

She came in a rush, the orgasm wrenched out of her, and she cried out, thrashing. She went completely limp, and then she looked over at River, between the valley of her breasts, over the plain of her belly. _Covered in red, like a poppy field_ , she thought, and wow, but that was maudlin. That must have been one _hell_ of an orgasm, if she was referencing World War One poetry. 

“Well,” said River, and she pressed a chaste little kiss to Clara’s thigh, “that was a nice warm up, wouldn’t you say?” 

Clara blinked at her. “Warm up?” Her voice squeaked a little more than she’d have liked. 

River smiled, and she looked almost _smug_. Clara very pointedly didn’t think “cat who got the cream” because that was a level of cliche even she didn’t want to fall into. “While the Doctor told me all about you… I don’t know how much you’ve heard about me.” 

“I look forward to learning,” Clara said, and she rattled the handcuffs. “Maybe a little more hands on?” She endeavored to waggle her eyebrows seductively. If such a thing could be done. 

“Oh, definitely,” River agreed. “But I don’t think I'm done just yet.”

Clara shivered, but her legs drifted a little wider. Almost as wide as River’s grin.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find out more about Kinkbruary, including the prompts, here!
> 
> https://twitter.com/_zaffrin/status/1352316453232504833
> 
> Also check out my twitter, TheseusInTheMaz. I love talking to people!


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